


Comfort long forgotten

by gisellesaintclaire



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 04:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17759414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gisellesaintclaire/pseuds/gisellesaintclaire
Summary: When Marie is caught shoplifting, she has to turn to her criminal lawyer for comfort.AU where Marie and Hank never got married.





	Comfort long forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many things I’d never thought I’d do in my life. Writing a Marie Lambert / Saul Goodman fanfiction was definitely one of them.
> 
> And yet, here we are.

On her lunchbreak, Marie thought she’d steal some jewelry.

Not that she was a shoplifter, because she was not. She never took anything unless the shop deserved to have it taken. And last week, the bitch of a salesgirl at Gertrude Zachary’s had ignored her for seven and a half minutes (Marie had checked her watch) to sell and gift-wrap a bracelet for another customer, and Marie had to stand there waiting like some sort of second-class citizen. Clearly, the store should have hired another salesperson. It was not Marie’s job to accommodate their poor hiring practices. But no, the store manager had thought having only one salesgirl—and a slow one at that—would suffice. Marie blamed corporate greed. It was the store’s own fault: she would have gladly paid for the amethyst necklace last week if they had served her immediately. But making her wait? That was unacceptable. Marie was a busy woman with a full-time job. She did not have time to stand around until some hussy deemed it appropriate to serve her. As far as she was concerned, the store had waived its right to be paid for the necklace when they had expected her to put up with this poor treatment.

So today, Marie would steal the necklace. She called it corrective injustice.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“May I help you?”

Today, the salesgirl made time for her. _Too little, too late._ Marie faked a bright smile and turned around. “Oh, yes, I was here last week, and you had this amethyst necklace? It was a pear-shaped stone set in fourteen carat white gold surrounded by a diamond halo. I want to say… 4.2 carats?”

The girl nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Follow me, please. If I may say, you are quite the jewelry expert!”

Marie found it extraordinarily irritating to deal with that woman but did what she had to do. “Oh, thanks! I used to work for Cartier, back when I was living in Switzerland,” she invented, her tone chatty and casual.

The salesgirl fumbled with the key chain clipped to her belt until she had found the right key. “Wow, that must have been so interesting! What was your job exactly?” She opened the display case and took out the amethyst necklace.

“I was a designer,” Marie explained. “But then my mother passed, so I returned to the states for the funeral, and what do you know, I met my future husband! So I flew back to Zurich, packed up my things, and moved right in with him. Now I illustrate children’s books.”

“What a fascinating life,” the girl said dreamily, an absent-minded smile on her lips. Clearly trying to banish the envy she felt for Marie, the girl shook her head decidedly and pointed to the necklace that was now lying before them on a velour tray. “Anyway, here’s the necklace. Pear-shaped amethyst, diamond halo, fourteen carat white gold… I’m sure you already know all that.”

Marie flashed another smile. “I do, but thank you for reminding me again. Would you mind leaving me alone with this? It was a thing we did at Cartier; just sit with a piece of jewelry and see if it speaks to you.”

“Certainly! I’ll be in the front of the store if you need me.”

For a while, Marie pretended to inspect the necklace. Now all she had to do was bide her time until another customer would keep that gullible creature occupied and she could sneak out of here. After a few minutes. Marie heard voices coming from the front of the store. “Yes, certainly, let me show you our collection of rings!”

_Bingo_. Marie took another quick glance through the store, carefully let the necklace slide into her purse and began strolling past the salesgirl, who was busy with another customer. “Thanks!” Marie called out, already halfway though the door. “But the necklace just was not for me. See you!”

One more step, and Marie breathed the fresh air of the world outside. A triumphant smile on her lips, she turned left and walked back to her car, when—

“Ma’am? I must need to ask you to come with me, please.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Security cameras. And some asshole hiding in the back, watching the customers on his monitor.

“This is an invasion of privacy!” Marie immediately protested. “You cannot just tape me without my consent!”

The manager seemed unperturbed. “Ma’am, I have alerted the authorities; they will be here shortly. If you could return the necklace you slid into your purse, I would appreciate that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Marie, feigning innocence. “And I do not appreciate being held hostage here!”

The store manager just shot her an annoyed look and said nothing.

“My husband is a criminal lawyer!” Marie told him, growing increasingly frantic. “He will sue you. And your store. I am a blameless victim!”

She continued threatening litigation until the police arrived.

“Shoplifter?” the officer asked matter-of-factly as he was led into the small office where Marie was being held prisoner. He was young, maybe twenty-two, his face still showing visible scars of acne. Marie grimaced in repulsion.

“Yup,” the manager confirmed. “Still has the necklace in her purse.”

“I will not stand these allegations!” Marie protested again, fuming at the unfairness of it all. “My husband will sue you.”

“He’s a criminal lawyer,” the manager explained with a chuckle, as if it was some sort of joke.

The officer rolled his eyes and gestured towards Marie’s purse. “Would you allow me to take a look, please?”

Marie weighed her options. What if she refused? She would probably be arrested, wouldn’t she? And then she would be booked and would have to sit with the other criminals. The thought was repugnant. She’d rather take her chances here. She could always say someone planted the necklace on her to frame her. With a cold look, Marie shoved her purse towards the policeman. “Sure, whatever.”

The officer pulled out the necklace ten seconds later. “Is this the one?”

“Yes,” confirmed the store manager.

“ _Excuse_ me?” Marie felt the blood rush to her head in outrage. “I did not put that there! Someone must have slipped it into my purse!”

“Certainly,” the police officer noted dryly, pulled out a notepad, and began scribbling some facts. “How much is the necklace worth?”

“Nine hundred and twenty dollars,” answered the manager.

“Hmm. That makes it petty theft,” the officer assessed and wrote something down. Then he tore off the piece of paper and handed it to Marie. “Ma’am, this is an official citation stating that you have been made aware of a violation by an officer of the law. You are required to appear in court two weeks from today.”

The paper felt like fire in her hands. “Oh, we will see about that,” snapped Marie. “You better believe I will talk to my husband. I will hire a whole army of attorneys. My husband is a very prominent member of the legal community in this town. Half the criminal judges came to our garden party last year! So you better worry. I can smell a lawsuit the size of Montana coming your way!”

The officer was unimpressed. “You can talk to every lawyer in New Mexico, if you feel so inclined. As long as you show up in court in two weeks.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

Three days later, Marie pulled into a strip mall parking lot. She never would have expected to come here. But she had done some research on the internet, and Saul Goodman seemed like her best bet. As absurd as that sounded.

As she was sitting in his cramped waiting room, wedged between a large man missing several teeth and a skinny woman covered in tattoos, Marie’s resolve began to crumble. She certainly did not look like Saul’s usual clientele. And who had thought playing music in the waiting room would be a good idea? Marie felt as if she was stuck in the world’s most patriotic elevator. _America, America, God shed his grace on thee…_ At least singing along in her head kept her from thinking about getting up and fleeing Saul’s waiting room—which was beginning to seem more and more tempting with each passing minute. _America, America, God mend thine ev’ry flaw…_ The girl with the tattoos was called up and Marie let out a sigh of relief. She would be next. Or not, if she decided to make a run for it. She could go to a respectable law firm and forget she had even come here. But then again… Saul was the only lawyer who might actually agree to what she would ask of him.

At that moment the intercom creaked. “Blattner,” the receptionist’s bored voice came through the speakers. She looked overworked and underpaid and sounded accordingly. “Charlotte Blattner.”

Marie got up and shot the woman behind the bullet proof glass an irritated look. Why didn’t the receptionist get another job, if this one bored her so much? Some people just had no ambition. Marie opened the door to Saul’s office and stepped inside.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she was surrounded by silence, the patriotic tunes no longer audible. Instead of the dingy linoleum in Saul’s waiting room, Marie now felt plush carpet underneath her feet. It even smelled differently, the sour stink emanating from some of his clients in the waiting room replaced by the tropical scent of air freshener mixed with the faint hint of cigarette smoke. After that hellhole of a waiting room, Marie felt as if she had stepped into another world. She closed her eyes in appreciation and took a deep breath of relief.

When she opened her eyes again, the man who had been sitting behind his desk, half-hidden in the shadows, was standing before her. He was younger than Marie had thought he would be (those low budget commercials she had seen must have been shot more recently than she had suspected), but the bags under his eyes attested to nights of little sleep, his stress permanently etched into his skin in the small wrinkles around his eyes. He could stand to lose a few pounds, too, she assessed, although his garish dark grey suit hung too loosely from his shoulders already. His shirt was a disturbing shade of lavender which clashed with the bright yellow of his tie. Everything about his appearance screamed kitsch; he looked like a 1940s mobster who was only tolerable in monochrome. Marie had to fight the urge to turn on her heel and run.

Not sensing her inner turmoil, he smirked. “Oh, boy. I’ve never seen anyone have such a… _visceral reaction_ to my office before.” He clicked his tongue. “You look like you were drowning out there, and my office is the safe haven you had given up hoping for.” His hands flew threw the air as he spoke, his gestures wild and possessive.

Instantly, Marie felt guilty, as if she was fifteen again and Father Linetti had caught her sneaking a cigarette after mass. “Oh, I was just—” she gestured behind herself, towards his waiting room, but he interrupted her before she could justify her behavior.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! I’m glad my office is so appealing to you.” He barked a laugh, quick and dirty. “My name’s Saul Goodman, and I only hope I can live up to the expectations my office has evoked in you. Now, why don’t you take a seat and let me know what I can do for you, Ms. Blattner.”

“It’s Lambert, actually. Marie Lambert,” Marie corrected him and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. His desk was fitted into a nook, the walls behind him decorated with the constitution and framed by cheap plastic columns that were probably supposed to look Greek. Marie had no words to describe the tackiness of it all.

“Lambert!” the attorney exclaimed and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Ah, Francesca must have mixed up my files again. I told her, one more slip-up and it’s back to the DMV with her, but—”

This time, Marie was the one to interrupt. “Oh, no, it’s not that. I did not give her my real name. You know, in case I…” She left the sentence unfinished.

Saul settled himself into the leather chair behind his desk, wedged between two columns, and looked at her, a sly smile on his lips that Marie though might pass as admiring. “Jeez, aren’t you a fox? Now tell me, what can I do you for?”

Feeling flattered against her better judgment, Marie lowered her gaze teasingly slowly and pulled out the written citation in her purse. Looking up again, she fluttered her eyelashes innocently and handed the piece of paper to her lawyer. His deep blue eyes held her gaze for just a beat too long to be deemed appropriate before he shot a glance at her citation.

The few seconds of silence that followed seemed to stretch for an eternity, and suddenly Marie realized her entire body was tensed. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. It felt so strange being here. She was not a shoplifter, she should not have to confer with a lawyer, much less a shyster like Saul Goodman. She was a sophisticated woman, after all. She should not have to go dumpster diving for an attorney. With Saul bent slightly forward to read, Marie could tell that he had combed over his hair to cache the onset of baldness. She eyed his brown strands disapprovingly. Hideous. She could not wait to get out of here.

“Shoplifting, huh?” Her attorney’s raspy voice brought her back to the presence. “Well, this is cut and dried; you were clearly framed.”

Suddenly, he did not seem so abhorrent any more.

“Here’s what I will do for you, Ms. Lambert,” he began rattling at breakneck speed. “Tomorrow, I will meet with the DA and get your case thrown out. You were clearly unlawfully detained in that room, and those security cameras? Well, we’ll poke proverbial holes into them until they look like a Swiss cheese, so to speak.”

At that moment, Marie could have kissed him.

“Before I spring into action, however,” her lawyer continued, “I kindly ask you for a check for $2.175. Here, I’ll write the number down on the back of my business card, and I need that in a money order. You’ll make that out to Ice Station Zebra Associates—that’s my loan out, it’s totally legit, just done for tax purposes.” He scribbled the details on the back of his card. “Leave that check with Francesca on your way out, and I will give you the best legal representation money can buy.”

He stood up, their meeting clearly over, but Marie stayed in her seat. “Mr. Goodman—”

“Saul, please,” he interjected.

“Saul,” she repeated. “In the spirit of, uhm, full disclosure, there is something I have to tell you.”

He sat down again, put his elbows on his desk and rested his head on his folded hands, a curious look on his face.

“Uhm, I might have… told them that you were my husband.”

He burst into laughter.

“It probably sounds worse than it is!” Marie hastily assured. “I just… misrepresented my marital status.” She could feel her cheeks reddening and hoped he would not notice.

“Misrepresented your marital status?” Saul replied gleefully. “No, misrepresenting your marital status is telling someone you’re single when you’re actually divorced. This is coming up with an imaginary husband. Hey, I’m glad they didn’t catch you stealing an engagement ring, now that would have been a lot harder to explain.” He laughed again.

Marie shot him an annoyed look. “Excuse me? Aren’t I innocent until proven guilty?”

Saul jovially waved her protests aside with his hand. Marie was shocked to discover how big it was. He could probably grasp around her entire waist with both hands (she had recently lost three pounds, after all). The thought had come unexpectedly. But why would he do that? Why would she want him to? She shooed the daydream out of her mind. “Be that as it may,” she hissed, “I would appreciate your… discretion, should anyone mention it to you.”

Saul was still chuckling. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am flattered! Looks like my late-night TV commercials are paying off in more ways than I had anticipated, but hey—whatever you need, I’m at your service. Better call Saul!” He abruptly pointed a finger at her face, his strong hand far too near. This close, she could see each coarse little hair on his hand. She wondered what they would feel like against her lips.

Fighting to retain control over the situation, Marie slapped his hand away with a frown, and with it her strange imaginations. “All I said was that my husband was a criminal lawyer. I did not mention you by name.”

Saul clutched his chest theatrically. “Marie, you are breaking my heart here! I thought we had something real!”

Despite rolling her eyes at him, Marie felt a laugh rise against the back of her throat. This was too ridiculous. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she scolded him, her voice vibrating with the smile she had trouble banning from her lips. “Just get my case dismissed.” She rose out of her chair.

Saul winked at her. “Anything for my beautiful wife. Hey, what time should I be home tonight? What’s for dinner?”

“Based on everything I know about you? Probably a microwave burrito,” she shot back.

He laughed again. “Oh, she can dish it out as well as she can take it! You’re like Scarlet O’Hara.”

It infuriated her how disarmingly charming she found him. “And you are nothing like Rhett Butler, Saul.”

He got up from his chair as well and walked out from behind his desk. “I never claimed to be.” He leaned against his desk, smirking daringly.

Marie took a slight step back. Everything was different suddenly. The desk had created a natural barrier between them; she had felt safe on this side of the room. Now, everything was far too real, too many scenarios far too possible. Adrenaline began rushing through her veins, her heart sped up, her breath became quick and shallow. Marie clutched her purse in front of her chest like a shield. “I’ll leave that check with your receptionist on the way out.”

She practically ran to her car, frantically pressing the remote unlock button from across the parking lot until she heard the doors audibly click. Breathless, Marie threw herself into her seat and stared at the inflatable statue of liberty on Saul’s roof. It was swaying softly in the wind, its torch blocking and unblocking and blocking the light of the setting sun with every move. Marie gripped her steering wheel tighter.

So… this was Saul Goodman.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The next day, Marie tried not to think about Saul, which proved difficult because she knew that he would badger the DA today to get her case dismissed. Work was a welcome distraction; she helped several doctors read their patients’ scans. Marie made a resigned scoff. _Doctors_. They thought they were sooo smart, with their M.D.s and their walls full of medical textbooks, but at the end of the day they all came to the technicians for input. Of course her colleagues were not as good at their jobs as she was, so it was mostly up to Marie to interpret the scans and tell the doctors if their patients would live or die. It made her feel like god. They should give her a raise.

Marie had just finished explaining a brain tumor and was about to make herself a cup of tea when her phone rang, and Saul’s name flashed across its screen. It sent a wave of anxiety bursting though her body. Her stomach in knots, she answered the phone. “Hello?”

“It’s me, Goodman,” her lawyers voice sounded through her phone. “Good news! I got that case thrown out. You are free to roam the malls of Albuquerque again, no repercussions. Just stay away from Gertrude Zachary’s, and you’re golden.”

_Justice_. Marie breathed a sigh of relief. Saul had really worked magic. But then again, she was not a shoplifter, so any other outcome would have been a grave miscarriage of justice.

“Hey, you’re still there?” she heard her attorney ask after a moment of silence.

“Oh, yes. I’m glad you got that misunderstanding out of the world.”

“Anything for my beautiful wife,” he chuckled and hung up the phone.

Unable to focus on her work after that, Marie decided to go home early and get some rest. She really deserved it, after that ordeal the asshole store manager at Gertrude Zachary’s had put her through. As her blue New Beetle tore down the highway, Michael Bublé playing on her stereo, Marie felt freer than she had in weeks. The world was her oyster; she could do anything, be anyone, go anywhere (except for Gertrude Zachary’s perhaps, but she would never want to set a foot in that gulag again anyway). Her troubles lay behind her now. She turned up the volume.

_Oh, freedom is mine and I know how I feel…_ Humming along to the song, she came to an impulsive decision, made a turn, and pressed the accelerator. _It's a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life…_ After a short drive, she parked her car next to a white Cadillac DeVille, grabbed her purse and went inside, the song still playing on her mind.

_And I'm feeling good._

Today, his waiting room was empty, his receptionist nowhere to be found—his practice had officially closed half an hour ago, but he seemed to have stayed late to catch up on some casework. Determined, Marie knocked on his door.

“We’re closed!” Saul’s voice sounded through the door. “Come back tomorrow! _Mañana_!”

“It’s me,” Marie called back through the door.

“Who?”

It hurt her a little that he could not tell who she was based on her voice alone (because she would have recognized his dark rasp anywhere, Marie was sure of that), but she reminded herself that he probably saw hundreds of clients every day. The thought alone was enough to make her want to rush back to her car, drive home, and hide under the purple covers of her bed. Marie was convinced that she was undoubtedly the most elegant woman that had ever set foot in Saul’s office (by far!) but now, standing in front of his massive walnut door, she had faint doubts if he had noticed that as well. This was madness. But she told herself there was no way back now, although deep down she knew that was not entirely accurate. But she did what she had to do. These were desperate times.

“Your wife,” she quipped, her voice sounding surprisingly steady and sure, unlike the rest of her felt.

She heard the soft _click_ as he turned the key in the lock, and then the door opened and Saul stood in front of her. Today, he had opted for a bright red shirt accentuated by a multicolored tie that gave Marie a migraine.

She tore her eyes away from his hideous outfit and looked into his face, a confident smile on her lips. “Hi.”

For a moment he just stared at her, confusion and surprise writ large in his face. Then, gradually, another emotion lit up his eyes: _Realization_. “Hi.” He closed his eyes and gave her a tiny nod as he said it, almost as if he wanted to reassure her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me inside?” Marie tut-tutted. “Where are your manners, Mr. Goodman?”

He smirked and stepped aside to let her into his office. Once Marie had stepped over the threshold, she knew there was no going back. The look on Saul’s face was all the confirmation she needed, the unspoken contract they had entered legible in the gloom of his office.

He stood in the middle of his room, observing her every move, and Marie held his gaze and looked back at him, truly seeing him for the first time. He looked just as tired and overworked as he had done yesterday, but there was a sparkle in his eyes she had not noticed before, a long-forgotten remnant of his youth, that gave him a boyish charm.

Marie let her purse drop to the floor. “I just came by to say thank you.” Her soft voice broke the silence surrounding them with thundering finality. Without hesitation, Marie closed the distance between them and finally let herself taste her criminal lawyer’s lips.

He had anticipated her move, his lips already slightly parted, welcoming her mouth on his and returning her kiss with fervent passion. Marie let out a soft moan. She had expected her mind to be racing throughout, had braced herself for a cacophony of voices in her head that tried to make sense of it all, but as she sunk into the kiss, everything inside her went quiet. Here, in Saul’s arms, Marie found a comfort she had long forgotten existed.

She let her hands run over his back, feeling his muscles clench under the layers of polyester, and decided he was wearing too many clothes. Greedily, she felt for the lapel of his jacket and tore it off him, and he let go of her for a moment to struggle out of it before his hands returned to her waist, holding her tight and pulling her close to him until she was sure he could feel her heart drumming against his chest. Their kiss still unbroken, Marie took his face into her hands to steady him, and picked up the pace, ready to taste him, touch him, feel him everywhere at once. A sound escaped his throat, half pleased moan, half feral growl, and his hands began moving across her body, his right hand feeling for her hip, digging his fingers into her soft flesh, grabbing her ass, his left hand moving underneath her blouse and letting her feel the touch of his fingertips on her naked skin.

Marie’s hands flew to her blouse and she frantically began unbuttoning herself, Saul’s touch still burning and tickling and intense on her skin. He broke their kiss as soon as her blouse was open, his eyes roaming from her swollen lips over her neck towards her chest, and he bit his lower lip greedily as he caught sight of her perfect breasts, tightly wrapped and held up by a lace purple bra with white embroidery.

Her lust begging for release, she felt his hands moving to the clasp of her bra. Marie wanted nothing more than to let him take it off and feel his hands and lips and teeth on her, but she would not grant him that satisfaction yet, even if it was killing her to make him wait. She put her hands on his arms and pushed him away from her ever so slightly, a stern look on her face. “No.”

The word sufficed to extinguish any initiative on his part, and Saul let go of her and looked at her in surprise and disbelief, his lust burning in his eyes. Marie knew she held him in the palm of her hand at that moment. It was the most exhilarating feeling. She could do anything to him now, and he would probably let her. A triumphant smirk appeared on her lips and she arched an eyebrow. “This?” she pointed at herself in mock indignation. “You’ll have to earn this, Mr. Goodman.”

He visibly swallowed a desperate groan and watched her almost helplessly as she put her index finger on his chest and pushed him backwards until he was stopped by his desk.

Her eyes still locked in his, Marie sank to her knees in front of him. Her back was arched almost painfully, but it was worth the price to see Saul dissolve in anticipation while she opened his belt, unzipped him, and pulled his pants and boxers to his ankles in one fluent motion.

His manhood, already half-erect, sprang free, and only then Marie allowed herself to take her eyes off his face and look at what was in front of her.

She hadn’t done this in a while—and certainly not while kneeling in front of a man—but she did not let that slow her down. Her hands running up his thighs, she steadied herself by holding on to the highest part of his leg and leaned forward until her lips touched the soft skin of his belly. She breathed random kisses on him, drawing lazy patterns on his skin, taking her time. She was worth the wait, and besides, feeling Saul’s palpable struggle not to rush her sent a jolt of ecstasy through her veins. After what felt like an eternity, he hesitantly put his hands on her head and began playing with her hair, the gesture sweet and innocent in contrast to what he so clearly wanted. Responding to his touch, Marie inched closer towards the trail of hair leading towards her goal. Somewhere above her, she could feel Saul’s breath quicken. _Good._

She tormented him with her slowness for a few more minutes before she finally allowed herself to taste his manhood, letting the tip of her tongue run along its full length so softly she thought he might not even feel it. His entire body shuddered underneath her in response, and she heard him breathe a deep “ _Fuck_ ” into the sultry air.

Marie could not help but smile. She was _good_.

As a reward for his visceral response, she parted her lips and took him into her mouth, only the tip at first. Above her, Saul made a sound that was closer to a desperate whimper than a passionate groan. She let her tongue swirl around his tip, moistening it, until she could feel a thin rivulet of spit running down her chin. She inched further again, sucking him a little deeper, and Saul reacted with another “ _Fuck_ ”, more high-pitched and squeaky than before. They continued this dance, Marie tormenting him with her slow pace, Saul responding as if he was closer and closer to tears, until she felt him against the back of her throat. Then, and only then, did she finally pick up the pace, expertly moving her mouth along his full length, eventually adding her right hand into the mix.

He lost all inhibition at that point, uttering one last “ _Fuck_ ” and grabbing fistfuls of her hair as if they were the last thing holding him in this world.

In an instant, Marie let go of him and leaned back, looking up at him sternly. “Tsk, tsk, Mr. Goodman. I though I had told you to earn this.”

He laughed weakly, resigning to his fate, and pulled her to her feet again to kiss her deep. This time, his tongue began darting in and out of her mouth, and Marie silently wondered if he could taste himself on her. She moved her hands to the back of her skirt, unzipped it, and struggled out of her pantyhose. As soon as she was free of it, she moved to push Saul’s back onto his desk. This time, he resisted. His lips broke free from hers, and his mouth moved so close to her ear she could feel his hot, spurting breath on her skin. “Oh no, you don’t.”

With that, he spun her around before she could register what was happening. Now she was leaning against his desk and he was towering over her. Marie had never thought losing control could be that sweet.

She noticed he had lost his tie and unbuttoned his shirt while she had knelt in front of him, and admired his surprisingly lean physique before he flipped her over. She landed flat on his desk, its edge pressing so hard into her belly it was almost painful. Marie wondered if it would leave a bruise. It would be so hot if it did.

His fingers grabbed the waistband of her panties and tore them off her greedily. Feeling the sudden burst of cold air between her thighs, Marie sucked in her breath in surprise.

Next, she heard the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper being torn open before Saul’s voice cut through her haze. “That’s okay, right?”

“God, yeah,” she managed to breathe, and as soon as she had uttered the words, she felt his hands on her, his fingers carefully examining her folds. She was so embarrassingly wet. His hands left her again, and Marie held her breath. She knew what would come next, and she was so, so ready.

He entered her in one quick stroke, and Marie moaned so loudly it was almost a scream. Feeling him inside her was sheer, blissful agony. Now she knew what Saul must have felt like mere moments ago. She wanted to come fast and hard and immediately. But instead of beginning to move inside her, he simply leaned forward and planted soft kisses on the skin between her shoulders, his breath igniting a lust and passion in her Marie had never known existed.

Within minutes, she was reduced to a shivering mess. But if there was one line she would not cross, it was begging. So she just waited stubbornly until Saul would have to move of his own accord.

Mercifully, he did not make her wait long. A few moans of hers seemed sufficient to ignite a fire in him that compelled him to move… and move he did. Carefully at first, waiting for her response, then picking up the pace as her moans urged him to be faster.

His desk cold against her skin, Marie frantically tried to move her hands underneath herself so she could cushion the force of Saul’s movements with her arms. But with every one of his thrusts, she lost control anew, helplessly flailing about as she struggled for a last bit of control, however vanishing.

Her naked toes fighting to dig themselves into his carpet, Marie felt herself being pushed closer and closer to oblivion. Somewhere behind her, she could tell from Saul’s groans that he was feeling similarly. Panting, she let out her first words. “Oh, fuck… God…”

It only seemed to encourage him. His breath became hard and rugged. “Say my name,” he ordered her, gasping with each thrust.

Marie obliged. “Saul,” she moaned, all inhibitions gone. “Oh, fuck… Saul…” It was so indecent, so dirty, that it was almost enough to send her over the edge. “I’m so close…”

Picking up her cue, Saul moved his hand between her legs and began feeling for her wetness. Soon he had found what he was looking for. Marie though she would lose her mind from his touch. “Oh, Saul…  right there… don’t stop… I’m coming… yes… yeeeesssss…. oh, Saul….”

She did not know if she was screaming or whispering the words, and she did not care, because building within her was an orgasm more powerful than she had felt in years.

Her screams seemed to draw him closer as well, because Marie heard his pants become more forced, felt his thrusts become more desperate. With one last “ _Fuck_ ”, he thrust forward and spilled himself inside her, the sheer force of his orgasm shooting waves of pleasure through her own body as well.

A short time later, he pulled out of her and left Marie with a dreadful feeling of emptiness. She stood on shaking legs, just in time to see him remove the limp condom and throw it into his trash. When he caught her gaze, he smiled. “Fuck, who would have thought sex with your wife could be this hot.”

She replied with a faint smile, too exhausted to respond properly, and bent down to pick up her panties from the floor. They dressed in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Now, all the voices Marie had repressed came thundering back into her mind. “What now?” they screamed. “How do you move on from this?”

Marie paid them no mind. When she was dressed, she shot him a knowing look. “Thanks for getting me off. Twice.”

He chuckled. “Get home safe. What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Based on everything I know about you? Id’ still go with the microwave burritos”, Marie said. “But, hey, if you ever get tired of those… give me a call.”

Without waiting for his reply, she left his office and closed the door behind her.

In her car, she allowed herself a few moments to breathe. Deep inside her, she could still feel the waves of her orgasm receding. She wanted to fully regain control of her senses before she hit the road.

Just as she was contemplating putting her key in the ignition, she heard her phone ring. Smiling, Marie answered. “Yes?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“I know.”

“There’s something I gotta tell you… I am sick and tired of microwave burritos.”

The smile on her face spread into a full-blown grin. “Oh, really? I wonder what we can do about that, Mr. Goodman.”

He laughed softly. “You’re really gonna make me beg for it, aren’t you?”

“I have found that you have quite the talent for that,” Marie noted with a smirk.

Maybe her criminal lawyer wasn’t such an asshole after all.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were curious which song Marie was listening to in her car:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI


End file.
